Protector With A Past

by Harper Allen

  "You came close to stopping him."

  Willard Stewart's dry tones were uncharacteristically sympathetic, and she was so startled she almost opened her eyes. What was her father doing here at the hospital? Earlier she'd heard a nurse saying that she'd only suffered a mild concussion, plus assorted cuts and bruises, so it wasn't as if she was in critical condition. What had possessed her father to drop everything and come to her bedside?

  "Close isn't good enough," Cord was saying bitterly. "When he ran I fired, and if my damn leg hadn't given way just at that moment—"

  "You did all you could, and so did that other detective—Tascoe, I think you said his name was?" Her father's voice was firm, and she heard Cord sigh.

  "Dean Tascoe. And he lost his badge years ago—I was the one who blew the whistle on him. But he redeemed himself at the end." He took a deep breath. "He died in the line of duty. I'm going to make sure it's written up that way."

  "A brave man. I'm grateful he gave his life to keep my daughter safe."

  He could have been reading a stock report, there was so little emotion in his voice, Julia thought. Why did he stay? Why didn't they both just go?

  "Detective Lopez told me that Donner is reenacting the deaths of the people who carried out those murders for him years ago."

  Her father gave a little cough, and Julia heard the chink of a water pitcher against a glass: She knew exactly what she'd see if she opened her eyes—Willard Stewart, as immaculately turned out as ever, sipping at a glass of water as if he was addressing a board of directors meeting instead of speculating on the twisted reasons of a serial killer.

  "That's why he took off in his car—he had it hidden out of sight, and he took a short cut. Everything had been planned toward that end—meeting Julia at that particular spot. In his mind he obviously was duplicating the crash that killed Diane Travis and robbed him of his son."

  "That's odd." Her father sounded as if he was frowning. "He's stayed as close to his psychotic script as possible so far—didn't the Travis woman actually die in the explosion after the crash?"

  "Yeah, they got Steven out just before the car blew. But I doubt Donner's splitting hairs now that he's got Lizbet." There was the clatter of something metallic and light, and Julia realized that Cord had risen to his feet and gathered his crutches. "Can you stay for a while? I'd like to check with Lopez and Stamp to see if there's any news about the search."

  "Surely. She's my daughter, Hunter—I intend to stay as long as she needs me."

  She understood now. Julia heard Cord making his way to the door, then the brief swell of busy hospital sounds as he opened it and left her alone with her father. Duty and obligation. Willard Steward would shirk neither. He would sit here with her till doomsday if need be, because she was his daughter, he was her father, and that was his obligation. She opened her eyes and met his.

  "I thought you might be awake," he said calmly. "How do you feel?"

  The dry, uninflected voice was Willard Stewart's, Julia thought in shock, but the man sitting beside her was someone she'd never seen before. Either that, or the blow to her head was making her hallucinate.

  Unshaven—she'd never seen him unshaven—and with his normally smoothly brushed hair untidily out of place, he wasn't wearing the suit she'd imagined, but an old flannel shirt that she thought she remembered from decades ago. It was buttoned unevenly, and one side of his collar was flipped up to rasp against the silvery stubble on his chin. He had on a disreputable pair of stained chinos, and now she did remember—he'd worn them only when he'd been out on the water or working on the boat during those long-ago summers at the lake. He shifted slightly, and she saw with something akin to horror that Willard Stewart was wearing slippers jammed onto his bony bare feet.

  He'd come out of his house and had appeared in public like this?

  "Excuse my attire." He gave her a wintry smile. "I received the call that you'd been hurt sometime around three this morning. I came straight here."

  He leaned over as she hoisted herself up against the stiff hospital pillows and handed her a paper cup. It was filled with ice chips. Julia saw, and she took a few into her mouth gratefully.

  "I heard you talking with Cord a few minutes ago. How—how does he look?" she asked, the image of her last sight of him filling her mind—the blood, the pain etched on his face, his hoarse voice shouting at her to take Lizbet and get her to safety—

  "Like a man who was caught in a leghold trap. And you look like a woman who survived an accident that by rights you shouldn't have walked away from." A shadow crossed her father's patrician features. "The police tell me that all of Donner's acquaintances are being questioned, and his Friendship Center converts are being watched in case he shows up with the child. They'll find her, Julia."

  "I don't think so, Father. I think we've lost her for good." She stared stonily ahead, avoiding her father's alert gaze and feeling the old emotions rising inside her. "Correction—I lost her. Cord and Dean Tascoe did all they could. Even King gave his life for her. I never should have taken on the responsibility of keeping her safe."

  "That's foolish—" Willard Stewart began, but his daughter cut him off.

  "Foolish, Father? I saw Donner come up to the car last night—did you know that?"

  She raised the cup of ice to her cracked lips, but instead of reaching her mouth the chips fell onto the bedcover. She set the cup on the table beside her with a shaking hand.

  "I lost consciousness when the car rolled the second time. I wasn't belted in, and I remember hitting my head against the glove box, but when I came to Lizbet was unhurt and that was all that mattered." She scooped the spilled chips of ice into her hand unseeingly, her eyes fixed on her father. "For a second I couldn't remember how the accident had happened, and when the passenger side door opened my first thought was that someone had come to help us."

  "Don't relive it, Julia. You need to stay quiet—"

  "But it was Donner." She folded her fingers tightly over the ice in her palm. It was so cold it felt like it was burning her, and a detached part of her mind wondered if later she would find it had seared her skin. "It was Donner, and he was smiling at me—smiling as if he knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was wearing my gun, and I tried to get to it, but I couldn't move—"

  "For God's sake, your shoulder was dislocated—"

  "—and there was blood running into my eyes and onto Lizbet's T-shirt, Father, and I tried to hold onto her but he just lifted her out and took her. I—I lost her. She's gone for good—and I let it happen!"

  And the boom came over and attacked him, Cord! Julia squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to control the panic that was ballooning inside her.

  "I'm going to ring for a nurse." The dry voice sounded slightly alarmed. "This can't be good for you, Julia. You can't blame yourself for the machinations of a madman."

  Too late she remembered how uncomfortable displays of emotion always made him feel. He was uncomfortable now, she saw. Under the light tan his face was pale, and the cool gray eyes held a hint of uneasiness.

  Always in the past she had kept well inside the invisible but inviolate boundary that confined their relationship. Julia knew that she should make an effort to adhere to the rules that had governed them both all their lives, but suddenly she didn't care anymore.

  "I'm not ill, Father. I don't need a nurse." She pushed her hair back with a trembling hand and realized that the ice she'd been bolding had melted away to nothing. "I was responsible for keeping that child from harm and I failed her! Maybe reliving the moment that Donner took her from me is futile, but I can't help myself—I'll relive it for the rest of my life!"

  Her voice had risen to a tremulous shrillness, and Willard Stewart laid an urgent hand on her arm, but she shook it off with agitated force. "I should have gotten to my gun, I should have guessed he would be waiting for us—dear God, I should have died before I let her go! I should have died!"

  The wall around her emotions that had protected h
er all her life wavered, crumbled and then came crashing down, letting the pain pour in with full force. Julia felt herself screaming inside, and she knew that at any moment those screams would become audible.

  —and the rope rolled over her fingers and she started screaming and screaming—

  "No!" Her father was on the bed beside her, his gray eyes stricken. "No, Julia—"

  She looked at him blankly. "I should have remembered, Daddy! He told me to put the life jackets in, and I forgot! Davey drowned and it was all my fault and—and you knew, didn't you? You knew, and you never, never forgave me! I should have died, not him!"

  For a moment their gazes locked. Her father's face was ashen with shock, and hers was drained of all color. His mouth moved soundlessly, as if for once the correct phrase had escaped him, or as if be had realized there was no correct phrase for the situation, and Julia suddenly blinked in confusion. She put a shaky hand to her forehead.

  "Father, I—I'm sorry—"

  "What have I done?" His voice was a raw, anguished whisper. "Dear God—you've blamed yourself for Davey's death all these years? I killed him, Julia—I took the life jackets out! It was never your fault!"

  Over the hospital paging system a doctor was being called to emergency. Through the thin coverlet on the bed the melted ice had soaked her lap. Someone had brought her flowers already, Julia thought—cornflowers and daisies, like the ones that grew wild along the ditches at the lake house. She hadn't noticed them before.

  "You—you took the life jacket out?" Her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.

  "I took it out the night before. I—I'd remembered seeing a rip in one of them, and I wanted to have it mended the next day." Her father's head was bowed, and his hands were clenched in his lap. "They were both in the Sunfish when I went looking for them late that night."

  "Then I didn't—" Her fist went to her mouth. Her eyes were wide and staring. "I didn't forget! I must have put them in the Sunfish, just like Davey told me to. It wasn't—it wasn't—"

  "It wasn't your fault. My God, how could it have ever been, even if I hadn't been responsible for removing the damn thing. You were a child, Julia—a little girl! But I was Davey's father, and my son drowned because of my carelessness."

  "You couldn't have known—"

  "I saw the two of you go out in the Sunfish that morning!" Willard Stewart's head jerked up. His neck muscles were corded with tension, and his eyes blazed out of a face contorted with unbearable pain. "I saw you go out—and I forgot that I'd removed the life jacket! I was annoyed with him—annoyed that he'd taken the boat out with you in it without an adult present. I stood on the porch and I watched the two of you in the binoculars and I saw him fall overboard, Julia! I saw my son die—and I've lived with that guilt ever since."

  "I thought you blamed me." Her tear-filled gaze searched his face. "I wanted to take his place, to do everything that he'd done so you would love me as much as you'd loved him. I was a better diver than he'd ever been, I took up archery because he'd been good at it—"

  "I was proud of Davey—what man doesn't feel pride and love for the son who reminds him of himself? But you, Julia—" For the first time in his life, Willard Stewart reached out a tentative hand and touched his daughter's hair. "You I adored from the first moment I laid eyes on you."

  His hand trembled on her hair, and his voice was low and urgent. "You were your mother all over again—but your mother before marriage to me tore her apart. You were so precious to me, and I knew I didn't deserve you. I knew you would never forgive me if you ever found out I was responsible for Davey's death—but believe me, if I'd had any inkling that you've carried that burden of guilt all these years…"

  His words trailed off into silence, and Julia didn't speak. His band dropped from her hair.

  Cord had always told her she was more like her father than she knew. Now she could see it for herself, she thought. What she had taken for chilly reserve all her life had been the fear that had haunted her father for years—fear that if he ever revealed himself to the daughter he cared for so deeply, she would turn away from him forever. And so he had kept her at arm's length rather than risk seeing the rejection in her eyes he knew she would feel if he ever opened himself to her completely.

  "You've told me now," she said softly.

  "Yes." There was bitter self-recrimination in his tone. "I've told you now, because I see what hiding the truth has done to you all these years. You mustn't blame yourself for what happened with Lizbet, Julia—"

  "Maybe you're right." Her gaze was steady. "But that doesn't change the fact that Donner has her. I'm going to get her back, Daddy."

  He looked at her with sudden alarm. "No—leave it to the police. That monster nearly took your life once—"

  "You of all people should understand." She reached for his hand, and his fingers tightened around hers. "You would have given your life to bring Davey back, wouldn't you? Not out of guilt, or to erase your own pain' but because you loved him. And I love that little girl, Daddy. She's counting on me—me and Cord."

  "But you don't even know where Donner is," he protested. "He's dropped out of sight, Julia—how are you even going to find him?"

  "How are you intending to find him?"

  Cord stood in the doorway, and at the sight of him her heart missed a beat. She'd come close to losing him, Julia thought tremulously. He was all she'd ever wanted in the world, and she'd nearly lost him. She wouldn't risk it again.

  "I'm not going to find him, Cord," she said evenly. "We are. I don't know how, but we're going to bring our little girl home."

  His eyes met hers across the space that separated them, and then a corner of his mouth lifted in a slow smile that seemed to take in everything she'd left unspoken. Maybe it was going to be all right, she thought, her smile shaky. Ridiculously, she felt a fresh bout of tears come to her eyes, and she dashed them away, still holding his gaze.

  "You're on, honey," Cord said softly. "Where do you want to start?"

  "Has Lopez talked to Susan—" she began, but at that moment the phone beside the bed rang. Cord frowned, and her father raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  "Do you want me to get it? It wouldn't be for me—I haven't let anyone know where I am." He started to reach for it as it rang a second time, but Julia stopped him.

  "No!"

  She knew who was calling her, she thought with cold certainty. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. She could sense him already. Cord met her eyes, and in his she saw the same knowledge.

  The phone rang again, and she jerked it up so fast she almost dropped it.

  "Hi, Julia. How's the head?"

  The pleasantly casual tone, the solicitous concern and the realization that once more Donner had anticipated them robbed her of speech for the moment. She closed her eyes, fighting the nausea that swept over her at the sound of his voice. She heard her father's in-drawn breath, and as she opened her eyes she saw Cord's expressionless features.

  "I've got someone here I'm sure you'd like to talk to, but unfortunately she still hasn't said anything—not even to me. You know, getting the silent treatment from a five-year-old could get annoying after a while."

  "Donner, get one thing straight." Julia gripped the phone's receiver so tightly that her knuckles whitened. "If you touch one hair—one hair!—of that child's head, I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth. I'll be the one that you have nightmares about—get it?"

  Her voice throbbed with such intensity that for a moment the man on the other end of the line was silent. Then he spoke again, but this time there was an edge to his words.

  "Something's changed," he said slowly. "You're not the woman you were yesterday, Julia."

  "That's right, Donner." She fought to keep her tone even. "Yesterday you got the better of me. That won't ever happen again."

  "But I still have the child. I'd say the odds were definitely in my favor, wouldn't you?" She heard him exhale impatiently. "Let's cut to the chase, Julia. I guess you'v
e finally figured out what this is all about, haven't you?"

  "Two down and two to go. You lost the four members of your family years ago, and now you want revenge. Paul's dead. Sheila's dead, so that leaves Cord and me." Her voice hardened. "And Lizbet is Steven, who was taken away from you. But I'm not agreeing to any deal that includes her, Donner."

  "I'm willing to lower my terms." The light voice took on a note of reasonableness. "It's Hunter I want. He was the driving force behind what happened to my people. The child is proving to be more of a liability than I'd figured on—God, every time I turn on the damn television I see a bad photo of myself staring out of the screen. I'll let you take her if you give me Hunter."

  Julia's mind raced, and then she spoke, choosing her words with care. "Are you absolutely sure?"

  "Of course I'm—" Donner broke off in mid-sentence, and she heard his indrawn breath. "He's with you now?"

  "That's right."

  "And you're offering yourself in his place." It wasn't a question, and for once she was grateful for the man's acuity.

  "Losing you would be worse than losing his life," he continued slowly. "You see, I know all about the two of you and the way he's always loved you—it's the stuff legends are made of, isn't it?"

  "Yes. But it cuts both ways, Donner," Julia said guardedly. "I understand. Well, of course I don't understand that kind of selflessness, but I get what you're telling me—you'll trade your life for his and the child's. Call me a sentimental fool, but I accept." He gave a laugh of genuine amusement, and she closed her eyes in relief.

  "Where do we meet you for the handover?" she asked, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice.

  "You know what? Just because of all the trouble you two put me through last night, I'm going to let you sweat that one out yourselves. You've got two hours, Julia. Lizbet and I will be waiting for you."